In Memoriam
by Beautiful Tricks
Summary: I am grown old and my memory is not as active as it used to be. When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this, but we all have to do it.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ THIS**

**This story conveys the romantic relationship between Bellatrix Black and Hermione Granger. This will be rated M for future chapters. Though the first few chapters focus on a later time in life, this story mainly concerns the happenings before, during and after the war. If you have any questions concerning where this story is going, or doubts of any kind, please let me know and I'll post the answers in the next chapter. I know this chapter is going to be confusing, so I'll try my best to be clear. The bold stuff is meant to clarify that it's talking about the dead partner, and the non bold stuff is the griever. **

_**If you live to be a hundred,**_

_**I want to live to be a hundred minus one day,**_

_**so I never have to live without you.**_

She pulled her face out of the pensieve. The memory was now again just a memory. Living and reliving. Not able to touch the only woman she had ever loved. Nothing but a ghost now. She knew this was a lousy way to make herself feel better. Day after day she had done the same things. She woke up, went to the pensieve, ate when she was starving, slept shallowly for a couple of hours and then the whole cycle repeated itself. Her hert felt tired. Tired of feeling, of lousy meals and lousy sleep. Her hair was dirty and she hadn't change clothing in days. She didn't answer any calls. People worried but when they tried to visit her she pretended she wasn't home. Home. What was home? Home was being wrapped around **her wife**'s arms, home was holding hands with **her**, it was **her** laughter, **her** eyes, it was their bed.

She felt a sob wrack her body. No. She couldn't think of what she'd lost. It hurt too much. But the memories were all she had now. And the pictures. She couldn't make herself get rid of any of it. The value of every single second they had ever lived together was too great. She knew if she let go of any of it, any memory or photograph, then she could never recover it. It was gone. Gone forever. Who could ask her to do that? But they had. They had begged her to move on, told her she had to get on with her life. There was no life without the woman she loved.

"I won't. I won't. I refuse to forget you," she said to herself as she laid on the carpeted floor, "I refuse to let you go. I can't. I need you."

She got up slowly, and went to their closet once again. She grabbed **her** **lover's** favourite robe, one she'd given to **her** for **her** birthday two years ago. Holding it to her face, she closed her eyes and felt the oh so lovely scent she had once taken for granted. How could she have ever taken for granted how lovely **her wife** smelled? She remembered those nights they had spent together, watching movies, in bed, out with friends, and in dates. **She** was the only person who she loved. She couldn't believe **she** was gone.

They'd been married for decades. How could **she** be gone? How could **she** just die like that? She thought **she'd** be here forever. Or at least that they'd go away together.

She thought she'd wake up in their house, but she wasn't there. She knew where she was the second she opened her eyes. The room was warm, thanks to the fireplace in front of the four-poster bed. The bed was soft and comfortable, the blood red curtains around the bed did little to cover the two people sleeping in it, but gave the room a beautiful tint. The Requirement Room had always been the place where she could run away from anything. She felt so relieved that it had all been a dream. A bad, bad dream. She looked next to **her**. **Her wife** was sleeping peacefully to her left. **Her** body still warm. She felt stupid for believing that **she** was dead. How could **she** be dead? She'd never let that happen. Nothing would separate them, not if she could help it. She considered waking up** her wife** and telling **her** about her bad dream, but she couldn't allow herself to wake up the sleeping angel.

After about half an hour, **her lover** woke up next to her. Bellatrix wrapped her arms around Hermione, and kissed her lightly. Hermione took Bellatrix's hands and got on top of her. Bellatrix started laughing at the sudden change in Hermione's character.

"I'm exhausted, love, I'm not as young as I used to be," Bellatrix told Hermione, groaning. "I need my beauty sleep!"

"Beauty sleep? You're already beautiful. It's ok, you can just lay there..." Hermione kissed her way down Bellatrix's chest and stomach. Bellatrix stopped Hermione as she reached her navel.

"Let's just talk for now. I love you."

"I love you too, Bella. You know that." Hermione laid back down next to Bellatrix and grazed her lover's arm lightly, where the Dark Mark had once been. "I'll love you until I die."

Bellatrix rewarded her with a kiss, trying to show her how much she meant that back.

She woke up with a start. She couldn't help the tears that followed. If only she had never woken up. If only they could have stayed in the Room of Requirement forever. She wanted to stay in the realm of Morpheus and not let her go. The doorbell rang again. She wiped her eyes and got out of bed. The bell rang again as she wrapped herself in a blanket, thanking herself for making sure no one could Apparate into their home. Her home now.

She opened the door, wild blue hair greeting her. Tonk's daugther, Astrid, looked her up and down. She felt sorry for her. Astrid made her way into the house, not caring that she hadn't actually been formally welcome. Harry made his way in the same way.

"You have to stop doing this. She's gone. Nothing is going to change that. You both were the most intelligent witches of your generations. You have so much potential! You could do anything you wanted to!"

"Astrid, right now is not the time. Can you come back some other day?"

"No way. I rang twice before this week, I'm not leaving now. Besides, someone's got to clean this pig sty. Seriously, how can you live like this? What's this? Is this a- oh no, darling, no!"

Harry looked around, eyes open in shock, "I thought I was messy, but you're in a totally different league!"

The now only owner of the house covered the pensieve as Astrid' wheels started turning in her head. "It's not what you think, Astrid. Why can't you just mind your own fucking buisness?"

"It is what I think it is. You're wasting your life away with that pensieve!"

Harry took his wand out and put it to his wrinkled temple, a white gooey substance following his wand. He left the memory in the pensieve and did the same thing once again, and said, "Maybe you should take a look at those two memories. Maybe it'll help."

Astrid looked between them oddly as she picked up scattered clothing and dirty pans. As she picked up a sweater off the bed, the widow ran to her and screamed, "Don't touch that!"

Astrid looked taken aback, and dropped the sweater in its last location, "I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Whatever. Just don't touch anything. Either of you. Don't touch anything. You're messing everything up. You have to leave! Where's the black pillow? Where is it? God, you have to leave. Go away! Go away!"

Astrid held the grieving woman as she rocked back and forth in the floor, her back hitting the side of the bed.

"Calm down, we won't touch anything. I swear. Come on, Harry'll fix you something good. Probably the best meal you've had all week."

As they went to the kitchen, Harry took out a package wrapped in brown and set it on the counter. "My sweet sugar plum wanted me to give you this, she said you'd understand."

"Honestly, Harry," Astrid, rolled her eyes as she sat down, "You've been married to Ginny for decades now. I think it's time you stopped calling her that!"

Harry shrugged as he said, "It's just, I'm afraid she won't like me calling her by her first name. I mean... that woman can be scary!"

"Please, Harry, Ginny Potter is not scary! She's so nice to you!"

"Yeah, and I certainly don't want that to change... What do you feel like eating?"

He looked at the dark haired woman, waiting for her answer.

"Just make her fish and chips. She'll love them."

As harry set out to work in the kitchen, Nymphadora took the other woman by the hand and led her to the bedroom, crossing it to get to the bathroom. She leaned over the tub, turning all four knobs in the tub, changing the temperature, scent and color of the water, making it a nice, relaxed violet hue, smelling of lilies. When the bath was ready, she left the dark haired woman to her own devices, letting her undress and get on the tub as she went to get her fresh clothing.

She scrubbed herself clean, from head to toe, washing her hair with her wife's shampoo. Her skin was now wrinkly and a lot less tight than when she had first met her wife. Could she still call her her wife, even if she was no longer among the living?

When Astrid went in, she saw her sitting in the floor, shivering wildly. Astrid put a towel around her small frame and pulled her up. As they left the bathroom and reached the bed, Astrid gave the other woman a clean set of clothes, which she dutifully put on. By the time Astrid had dried and combed her hair, Harry's cooking was ready, and they both made the woman eat as much as they could before she refused to have another bite.

Harry tucked her in her bed and made sure she was exhausted enough so as to stop thinking so much and just drift off. Once he made sure she was sleeping soundly, Astrid did the dishes and they both left soon after that, Astrid helping Harry down the staircase, for his hips did not work as well as they once did.

When she woke up, alone, clean and somewhat rested, she dragged herself to the livingroom and stood in front of the pensieve. As she looked into it, she stared at all the memories swimming about, but only one drew her attention. As she selected the memory, she took a deep breath and got closer to the pensieve. She suddenly felt like she was being pulled by a string in the top of her head, and was transported to a dark, unfurnished room. Well, except for a mirror. She stood beside a sitting Harry and in front of Dumbledore, both looking at the mirror.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed." Harry stood up, and she went back to her home.

The other memory made itself noticeable, and she once again dipped her head into the pensieve. She was transported in the same fashion to Grimmauld Place, though it was dark, she could tell it was a dream, for the paintings were twisted and Dumbledore seemed as tall as trees in the Forbidden Forest. His low, loud voice said:

There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too treacherous to pass but they learned in the magical arts, the three brothers simply waved their wands and made a bridge. Before they could cross, however, they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. It was Death and he felt cheated. Cheated because travelers would normally drown in the river, but Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers on their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him. The oldest asked for a wand more powerful with any existence so Death fashioned him a wand from an elder tree that stood nearby. The second brother decided he want to humiliate Death even further and asked for the power to recall loved ones from the grave so Death part a stone from the river and offer it to him. Finally Death turned to the third brother. A humble man, he asked for something that would allow him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And so it was that Death reluctantly handed over his own cloak of invisibility. The first brother traveled to a distant village while with the Elder Wand in hand, he killed a wizard with whom he had once quarrels. Drunk with the power that the Elder Wand given him, he bragged his invincibility. But that night, another wizard stole the wand and slit the brother's throat for good measure. And so Death took the first brother for his own. The second brother journeyed to his home when he took the stone in turn in thrice in hand. To his delight, the girl he once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared before him. Yet soon she turned sad and cold for she did not belong in the mortal world. Driven mad by hopeless longing, the second brother killed himself so as to join her. And so Death took the second brother. As for the third brother, Death searched for many years but was never able to find him only when he attained a great age that the youngest brother shed the Cloak of Invisibility and give it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend and went with him gladly, departing this life as equals.

Hermione was once again back in the living room, where she cried sobbed and dropped to the plush carpet. She felt like her heart had been ripped out time and time again. The story had never hit so close to home. She felt like she'd do anything to bring the love of her life back. She would not be able to deal with the pain of bringing back her wife, only to have her feel miserable. It would be like losing her all over again. It wasn't like she hadn't thought of that before. She had given it plenty of thought. She wished her love no pain, even if she had to feel all the pain in the world.

**AN: I promise next chapters will be longer, but for now this will have to do. Anyways, R&R!**


End file.
